Lucius looked into the boy’s eyes and saw horror. There it was again, the shock of being in his vice and not knowing what had happened. Lucius backed into the shadows, like an animal might do with its freshly caught prey. The boy’s eyes couldn’t have been opened wider without popping from his head.
“What is you doing, boy? I’s going to let you speak, but if you squeak too loud, I will snap your neck.”
He lowered his hand.
“I—I—just wanted to see what was in the bottle the fat white man was drinking.”
If the boy had seen that, then he had overheard them talking.
“It ain’t good for little boys to be snooping around when a massuh is talking to his nigger,” Lucius said.
The boy said nothing. His wide eyes said it all. Lucius could feel him tremble in his grasp. He felt pity. He seldom felt that for anyone, but he felt it now. For once, he was bothered.
He clamped his hand back over the boy’s mouth and slowly began to twist his head. The boy squirmed, but it was of as much use as a mouse squirming in a cat’s paw.
“Washington!” called a voice from the porch of the big house. Lucius knew it was a white man calling. He felt the boy flinch when the boy heard the voice. The boy was Washington. He studied on it a minute. If the boy came up missing, the white folks may not wait until tomorrow to look for him. Maybe there was another way to handle this.
“Washington. You is Washington, ain’t you?”
Washington tried to nod, but Lucius held him too tightly. Lucius relaxed his grip a bit.
“Boy, if I lets you go, you don’t tell nobody what happened here. Does you understand me?”
Washington nodded swiftly.
“Is you scared of me?”
Washington nodded again.
“Good.” Lucius looked around, then stood up, holding the boy. He looked out of the shed and saw an older fat white man. He was looking about for Washington. Lucius backed to the back of the shed. “I tells you what, I ain’t the only big nigger that Massuh has—oh, no. He gots more in the woods just a waiting on us now as we talks. If anything happen to us, they comes in and kill everybody.” He waited to let the boy study on it. “Boy, I’m going to let you go cause you’s just in the wrong place at the wrong time. Now if I lets you go, is you going to say anything about me and my massuh?”
Washington shook his head.
Lucius took his hand away from the boy’s face and set him down. Washington just stood there.
Lucius got down on his knees and grabbed both of the boy’s shoulders. He eyed the boy for a long time then said, “Do you know the white boy, Joseph Taylor?”
The boy flinched, but said nothing.
Lucius smiled. “Tell me where the white boy is and I will let you go.”
The white man called for Washington, again.
Washington looked in that direction. He turned back to Lucius. “Will you swear to let me go if I tells you?”
Lucius stood up and rubbed the boy’s head. “Lucius is a man of his word.”
***
Lucius put his hand over Theo’s mouth, and Theo awoke with a start. “Quiet, it just me. We needs to get away from here while it is dark.”
Theo sat up in the bed and rubbed his face. “Why not wait until morning.”
“Don’t be asking foolish questions. Now get your stuff and let’s go.”
Lucius waited outside for Theo. Theo was slower than a woman. When Theo came out the door, Lucius motioned him to follow, and he put his forefinger to his lip signaling Theo to be quiet. They went into the shed and Lucius grabbed his bag and a bundle wrapped with a horse blanket.
“What do you have in the bundle?” Theo asked.
“I’ve killed us a little pig. They have a few, and they ain’t going to miss one. Least ways, they won’t think we carried it away.” He saw Theo smile.
***
Lucius waited until they were on the main road before he spoke. “That Taylor boy is gone to Virginia.”
“Virginia? Have you gone crazy?” Theo stopped walking. “They are fighting hard up there. We can’t go there.”
Lucius studied Theo. Did he still need him? He knew where the boy was headed. He could leave this bag of shit right here on the side of the road and go on. Not yet—not just yet.
“It is where the boy is, and it is where we is going,” Lucius said, then turned and continued down the road. He heard Theo huffing to keep up. If he said another word, he would regret it.
They walked for about two miles without saying a word, then finally Theo spoke. “Where is the boy at in Virginia?”
Lucius smiled. He knew that greedy bastard would come along, not just because he was scared, but because he wanted the money and, of course, the laudanum.
***
Close to dawn, Lucius felt they needed to get a little nap before daylight. They would walk all day and rest was necessary. He found a spot off the road a ways where they couldn’t be seen by travelers. He set the bundle down and stepped into the bushes looking for the right spot. He had just found the spot he was looking for when he heard Theo scream. He drew his knife from his boot and crept around to Theo. He was standing over the bundle with his hand over his mouth.
Theo stepped back when Lucius walked up. “I-I-just wanted to see the pig.”
Lucius reached down and hefted the dead boy.
“Why, Lucius? He was just a little boy.”
Lucius felt like taking his knife and cutting Theo’s tongue out. “Don’t you talk on it—don’t ever talk on it again!”
Lucius carried the body to the spot he had found in the bushes. There was a big log. He heaved at it, but it would not roll. He heaved again and the log slowly rolled over. With the knife and his hands, he dug out a shallow depression, then placed the body into it. He stood and stared at the boy. It would be a while before they found the body. They should be long gone by then—yes, long gone. He rolled the heavy log back over the body, then went around the log sweeping the area with a leafy branch. When he was satisfied that all evidence was covered, he sat down on the log—something snapped under the log. He let out a deep breath, then whispered, “Little Washington, I will make that white boy pay for what he done to you.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out the filthy piece of meat Theo had given him back at the Taylor farm. He blew on it, but it didn’t clean away anything; then he crammed it into his mouth. “Yep,” he said and chewed. “Joseph Taylor will die for what he done to you.”
Chapter 2 0
Peter’s belly rumbled as they stopped at the grove of trees. They had eaten little since they had left Gus and Albert, and they had given the two old men most of their money. The small trees had big leaves, bigger than any others around. Peter knew they would be turning yellow before long. Soon the leaves from all of the trees would be turning their fall colors: reds, yellows, browns.
Joe shook one of the trees, but nothing fell. “Ah, maybe ain’t any,” Joe said. “It ain’t ever too many on them anyhow.”
Peter tied the mule to a tree and went down the hill to Joe. He found the biggest tree in the grove, squared his legs for support, and shook the tree.
“Ain’t nothing in them, I done told you,” Joe said.
The treetop whipped like it was caught in a gale. The big leaves sailed down like kites. Suddenly four missiles dropped from the tree; one smacked Joe on top of the head.
“Yowl!” Joe grabbed his head with both hands.
Peter picked up one of the pawpaws, then split it in half. “You going to eat or are you going to hold your head?”
Joe grabbed up a couple and sat at the base of the tree, laughing and rubbing his head. He pulled the tomahawk from his belt and dug into the fruit. Soon he had yellow pulp all over his face.
Peter laughed at him, digging with the tomahawk. “Me like um pawpaw.”
Joe giggled harder and spit a seed at Peter.
Peter sat on a log. The pawpaw was good; at least it would curb the growling in his belly.
He watched Joe eat. The boy acted as if he didn’t have a care in the world. Just yesterday, they were both blue for having to leave the old men in such a situation. Peter wished he could be more like Joe in that regard. But, someone had to worry. Someone had to be concerned for the war. At least they were not alone in this. God was with them, and that’s what kept Peter going when things were at their lowest.
Peter went back up the hill away from Joe, removed his bag from his shoulder, reached in, and retrieved the Bible. He needed that comfort now. They were getting closer to Virginia and what they found there may not be—well—God only knew what they would find. He sat by a tree with his back toward Joe and opened the Bible. He had forgotten the necklace, and it fell into his lap. He looked up—good, Joe had not seen it. He held the necklace in his hand, admired the two passenger pigeons. Doves were in the Bible; Noah released the dove from the ark to find land. A pigeon was really a dove, after all. Here he held a family heirloom, but not his family.
He thought about that—his family. He had no family. He looked at Joe, busy shaking another tree. Joe felt like family. Peter turned the pigeons in his hand. Dr. Taylor had given him his most valued possession. He was like a father to him. He was white, but it hadn’t mattered. It surely didn’t matter to God. It didn’t seem to matter to Dr. Taylor. Does Joe feel as if I’m family, he wondered. He looked at Joe.
Something was wrong. Joe was staring past him like a deer. His eyes met Peter’s, then looked past him again. He had his hand on the tomahawk. Peter slid the necklace back into the Bible and slowly closed it, then dropped it back into the bag. He was afraid to turn around, but he had to.
Two men were coming from the trees, black men. Peter saw another to his right, and as he turned to him, he saw one coming from the road.
“What do y’all want?” Joe said.
The one from the road marched to Joe and pushed him down. Peter ran to Joe. The man grabbed Peter’s shoulder as Peter reached to help Joe.
“Leave him be,” the man said.
Peter pulled loose from his grip and hauled Joe to his feet. Then he held Joe tight, so he wouldn’t do something stupid.
“Let me go!” Joe said, squirming.
Peter ignored him. He looked the men over. They had all come up close, surrounding them. They were runaways—Peter could tell that plainly now. “You touch him again and it will be at your peril,” Peter said. He felt Joe look up at him.
“At my what?” The man laughed. The man was bald, and his head shined like a new cannonball.
Peter was bigger than any of them, but he knew he couldn’t take them all. “You men be on your way and let us alone.”
“We’s come to help you, boy,” the bald man said. “They’s Yankees in all directions. You can fetch up with us and be free.”
Peter let his guard down and Joe jerked free. Before he could react, Joe had his tomahawk in his hand and advancing on baldy.
“He’s already free,” Joe said, “and if you put your hands on me again, you’ll have stumps.”
The man slowly backed off. The others started forward.
“Tell them to back off, or I will spill your guts like the nasty hog you are!”
They stopped. The bald man looked to Peter with fright.
“He is pretty good with that ax,” Peter said. “I do appreciate your concern for me, but as my friend said, I’m already a free man. I’ve always been a free man.”
“Come on, John; that nigger don’t need no help,” another man said to the bald man.
Peter heard horses coming down the road from the north. The men heard them, too, and darted for the trees like rabbits. Peter followed Joe to the mule. Just as they got to the animal, eight men pulled up to them. They were a ragged lot. They wore all manner of clothes, but Peter saw enough gray and butternut through the dust and grime to figure who they were.
The lead man climbed down from his pitiful horse and looked the mule over. “What you boys doing here?” he said, running his hand over the animal.
“What are you doing here?” Joe said.
No, Joe! Peter thought. Why dive right into trouble when you may can avoid it?
Without moving a muscle, the man shot a stare at Joe. Peter saw they all had revolvers. He and Joe were at their mercy and Joe was too foolish to know it.
The man slowly turned, climbed back on his horse. “Well, boy, I’ll tell you what I’m a-doing here.” He pointed north. “Back up that way is Virginia, and in Virginia is the Shenandoah Valley. In the Shenandoah Valley is a General Early.” The man looked at the other men. They smiled. “I used to belong to General Early; well, I don’t belong to his ass no more.”
Joe stepped forward. “I’m from the Shenandoah Valley and there is where I’m headed. I’m not scared like you deserters.”
Peter grabbed Joe.
The man stopped smiling. “Boy, there is another general up there, too, and his name is Sheridan, and he aims to have the Valley. I’ve already lost two brothers up there fighting his ass.” He nodded toward the south. “I’m going home. I have a little girl about your age, and I’m going to see her.” The man said nothing for a long minute; then he simply spurred the horse and never looked back. The other soldiers fell in behind him—they didn’t speak.
As the soldiers rode out of sight, the Negroes came out of hiding like roaches. Peter found John to be their leader. “We is obliged to you not telling them soldiers we was a hid in them woods,” John said. He peeped down the road in both directions to make sure the soldiers were gone.
Joe mounted the mule.
Peter turned to John. “Well, we best be on our way, too.”
“Wait juss a minute,” John said. “We seed y’all eating them pawpaws, so y’all must be hungry. Follow us; we is got food.” The men turned back to the woods.
“Thank you, but we best be on our way,” Peter said.
Joe jumped from the mule. “Come on, Peter, let’s eat.”
Peter led the mule and followed Joe. Just a few minutes ago, Joe wanted to cut this man’s guts open; now he was following him as if he were an old friend.
The men led them farther into the woods. Peter worried. There could be more men; they could easily jump them and that would be the end.
Peter was right—there were more men, and women and children, too. It was a camp with about 20 people. There were four mules, a wagon, and a cart, and there was a big pot over a fire. Peter looked closer—no, the fire was out. The people watched Joe and Peter as if they were a couple of rabid dogs.
John raised his hand. “It fine—it fine. These peoples bees good peoples.” Slowly Peter could feel the camp relax.
“Where’s the food?” Joe said.
***
They ate on a makeshift table fashioned from a plank. They had ash-pone and cold grits. The grits had small pieces of meat in it. Peter believed it was rabbit.
The camp was hidden back in the woods. They had posted lookouts, and as a whole, the camp was kept quiet.
“I hopes y’all don’t mind the cold food, but we can’t afford to build too many fires,” John said.
Joe nodded and said with a mouth full of food, “Smoke.”
“That right,” John said, as a woman shoved more food into the boys’ plates. “We does our cooking at night; then we does our traveling after.”
“Where are you going,” Peter said, then took a bite of the bread.
John stood up and rubbed his shiny head with charcoal-colored hands. “We’s juss heading north. Don’t know where else to go.”
“You’re runaways, ain’t you?” Joe said.
“No, not really—well, most of us ain’t. We done picked up a couple that might be, don’t know for sho.”
“I don’t understand,” Peter said.
“Yankees done killed our massuh and the missus left us. Yankees burned down the place, even the quarters. We had a good massuh, but we don’t want nobody else to get us, so we is headed north.”
“Where you f
rom?” Joe said
“Georgia—most of us. Don’t know where some from. They just took a notion to fall in with us. Even got a white man.” John pointed to the cart. “He asleep over yonder behind that cart.” He looked at Peter, then Joe. “Did I hear you tell that soldier you is from Virginia?”
Joe finished his meal and stood up. “That’s right and headed there now.”
He started for the mule, then turned. “Oh, thank you for the grub.”
“Wait til dark and we’ll fall in with y’all,” John said.
“I have to look out for the boy’s welfare, and that wouldn’t be a good thing,” Peter said.
John whispered, “Don’t you think it time we looked out for our own?”
Peter shook John’s hand. “He is my own.” Peter mounted the mule with Joe. He felt pity for the Negroes. Then he thought of himself and his own troubles as they maneuvered the mule through the woods and toward the road. It was enough trouble to worry about.
***
Like a hungry lion, Lucius peered from under the cart at the boys on the mule and watched them disappear back toward the road. Good! Very, very good!
He looked over at Theo sleeping. He could kill him now, didn’t need him any longer. He slid the knife from his boot. He looked around and thought differently. Hell, one of these damn ignorant niggers might get mixed up in it and try to help Theo. As Theo snored, Lucius came up with an idea. Why kill this white man? Don’t need to. He took the last bottle of laudanum from his bag, poured the opium into it, and leaned it onto Theo’s belly. Lucius smiled and headed for the road.
***
Joe felt lighter, as if he were floating. They had passed a man on the road that said they were in Virginia. Finally, after all the time wasted, he was in Virginia. Now he just had to make it to the Shenandoah Valley. He pulled his harmonica from his pocket, played better than he ever had—no mistakes.
It was September. The Valley would be golden with corn; he could earn money with the harvest, could work in one of the mills. The opportunities were endless. He would have the farm up and going in no time. Wait until Peter sees the Valley. He won’t believe how beautiful land can be.
Chase The Wild Pigeons Page 31
