Good Fortune (9781416998631)

by Carter, Noni

  The day drifted by us without incident, however, and we ran that night, immersed deeply in this dreamlike world of escape, runaways bent on nothing but survival.

  One evening, as rain poured down, soaking us, Daniel and I crouched low to make our way down a steep hill. Too late, I saw Daniel’s foot slip. He slid quickly down the hill, through the mud, and slammed into a fence far below. We had run straight into the back of a home. I covered my mouth, realizing how loud the squeal I had let slip was. It took me some time to get to the bottom, and when I did, my brother was nowhere in sight.

  Suddenly, I heard a rustling on the other side of a fence. A dog began to bark. I watched with growing fear as a light came on at the house and the door opened. A tall figure clutching a shotgun stood in the doorway. “Who’s there?” the man bellowed in a menacing voice. I scanned the area for my brother. The man edged slowly down the steps, the gun pointing straight into the night, and asked once more who was out there.

  I jumped when his shotgun went off, and again when a hand grabbed my mouth tightly from behind. I looked around in surprise to see Daniel pulling me along on the other side of the bushes, as silently as possible. I couldn’t look back, but a few minutes later I heard the man curse and the door slam shut behind him. It was then I noticed the blood on Daniel’s hand.

  “Daniel, you hurt!” I whispered.

  “Shh. I ain’ hurt. Jus’ got us some food.” Indeed, he had. In his other hand was a dead chicken. In the daytime, we found a secluded place, and I fixed up the meat for us both to eat. What a blessing it seemed to be! Our food supply had been low, and we weren’t quite sure how much longer we’d be running before reaching our destination.

  It was only a few nights later that we reached the river that would take us to free land.

  CHAPTER

  25

  WE HAD FOLLOWED THE HUNTER’S CLEAR DIRECTIONS AS WELL as we could. He had explained that there were a few marked trees on the bank.

  “Find any one tree with mark. Wait. Nighttime come, make this sound.” The hunter cupped his hands and hooted three times.

  “Folk will help you cross. They not come first night, wait. They not come second night, wait. They not come third night, must cross different way.”

  We ran a mile along the bank until we found a large tree that fit the hunter’s description. Daniel told me to hide while he kneeled and cupped his hands.

  “Why?” I asked him simply, leaving my feet planted.

  “Jus’ in case this ain’ right an’ there’s some trouble.”

  “But, Daniel—”

  “Sarah, jus’ hide!” I headed into the woods but kept my brother in sight. He cupped his hands, made the sound, and waited.

  The night remained still.

  Daniel made the noise again, then waited for a while, until finally, there was movement in the tree branches right above his head. I watched my brother freeze and look up. A figure climbed down and knelt next to Daniel. I stayed still and silent as I watched them converse. When at last they stood, Daniel motioned for me to join him.

  Running over, the first thing I noticed was the man’s features in the moonlight. He had dark hair and nostrils that lay uniquely on his face. He darted forward, expecting us to follow him. We did so without exchanging a single word.

  He led us east a couple of miles along the riverbanks. He made a few motions, and another figure, what looked to be a black man, emerged from the darkness, hauling a small boat behind him. After the boat was put into the water, we climbed in, heads bent low, still without speaking.

  The boat seemed capable of holding seven or eight people, so our load of four seemed rather light. Before we pulled off, our guide asked, “No one else?” Daniel shook his head, and we drifted out onto the river.

  I couldn’t help but wonder where we were going. My thoughts must have been heard, because I received a forward response from the rower. I was surprised to hear that the rower’s voice was that of a woman. I couldn’t make out her features—it was too dark, and the brim of her large hat shielded her face from our view.

  “When we reach the other side, you two good people will be on free land!”

  Free land. Free land.

  I repeated the words in my mind, but they didn’t feel as light as I’d thought they would. I let them resonate, but I couldn’t seem to grasp them. The tense silence only grew greater as I searched for words. I could see in Daniel’s face that he was doing the same. I was the first to respond.

  “Free . . . free land? You mean, that’s it, we won’t have to run no more?” The words felt refreshing but almost unreal, as if at any moment, someone would reach out and snatch it all away. But my eyes met Daniel’s and the true feeling of freedom—a sensation we had never before experienced—peeked out from our souls.

  “No, you still gotta keep your eyes wide open an’ be as careful as eva. It won’t be over yet. There was a hunter, sent word of you to us. We tried to make it so’s you will get safely to Ohio, or to Canada, if you choose to go on farther. Not a day east of here, a family’s waitin’ to carry you off,” she said, her paddle not missing a stroke.

  “Then . . . then we’re free?”

  “Almost,” she replied.

  I squeezed Daniel’s hand in excitement.

  “We ain’t there yet, Sarah,” Daniel cautioned.

  “I know, but we close! We close, Daniel!” I could barely sit still.

  The boat glided on, and it was very quiet aside from the animals of the night. But as we moved farther from the bank, I wrung my hands with nervousness. If we were spotted, there was no way out of this situation. Each of their strokes pulled us both closer to freedom and farther out into the open. For nearly three hours, Daniel and I sat anxiously as the man and woman took turns rowing the boat. Daniel had offered to help, but they had refused him graciously. The way the two silently interacted, I wondered if they were devoted to each other like a man and wife.

  Finally, we came in sight of the shore. We had reached the other side! I felt my spirit hovering above the boat, and I was gazing down at myself, at Daniel, at our rescuers. Perhaps my spirit had to see it to believe it. We were rowing toward freedom!

  The boat hit the shore harshly, jerking me into reality. My spirit still hovered as my body moved timidly to disembark. Both body and spirit faltered as I tried to keep my balance. Panic gripped my heart.

  Where do we have to run to next?

  The two of us stepped off of the boat. My feet sank into the mud, and I closed my eyes for a moment, feeling like a bird released from a lifelong cage.

  We were on free land!

  The river’s constant motion became louder behind me, urging me to sprout wings and fly above the treetops, to gaze upon the land of freedom, my new haven, my new home! And then Mathee appeared. Her image came quick and sharp, piercing my mind as if to say, This is real, Ayanna, this is real. But you must keep moving.

  The woman stepped off the boat with us and held us close so she could whisper in our ears. “Rememba, run straight east,” she said, pointing at the line of trees. “In a night or two, you’ll find the house. It’s painted white, an’ the shuttas are red. Go to the barn and part the hay. If you find two gourds of water an’ two blue pallets, you in the right place. Mind you, be safe.” With no further instructions to give, she hurried back to the boat. They had just enough time to reach the other side before the sun rose. They tipped their heads to us in unison, and we whispered, “Thank you.”

  I was ready to run, but I closed my eyes, remembering.

  Tucker. Do you feel it Tucker? We all free, all of us, free now. You ain’t gotta worry.

  I heard Daniel mumble his name too, as if he was thinking my thoughts. I turned to him, smiling. “He knows we free, Daniel, we free! We free!”

  On this side of the river, the woods were less dense and there were many more open areas with nowhere to hide. That was all the more reason to be careful.

  During the day, we hid in the shelter of the thi
ckest woods we could find, then ran again at nightfall. Just as it began to drizzle, we found the house. It was simple to spot, and the barn contained just what the woman had told us it would. Daniel’s plan was to take the water and to hide out behind the barn until dawn, as a precaution.

  I squeezed Daniel’s hand, and all sorts of ideas started forming in my head.

  What if we’re caught? What will Masta do to us? Will he send us down south? Will he kill us as an example? What will he do to Mary if he finds out that she helped us? What if . . .

  “Stop frowning, Sarah. Stop worryin’,” Daniel said, interrupting this wave of thoughts. “Ain’t nothin’ gonna happen to us. Look how far God done brought us.”

  Still, later on, as the rain poured down hard, I dreamed of the plantation and the horrors it held.

  CHAPTER

  26

  “SARAH, SARAH, WAKE UP!”

  “Slave catchers?” I shrieked to Daniel.

  “No, not at all,” he said calming me down. “You seem worn out!” he continued.

  He was right. My eyes were swollen from crying, and my nose ran.

  “We ’bout to leave!” Daniel said, excited. It was fully daytime, and he stood over me with brimming excitement.

  “What you mean, ’bout to leave’? We jus’ gonna walk up to the door an’ say we ready to go?”

  “I already talked to the folks, Sarah, while you was sleep. They the McCarthys.” My brother helped me up. “We already in Ohio. Now we ’bout to go to one of the cities.”

  “Oh,” I said with a sigh of relief. We entered the house through the back, and I met the elderly white couple. Mr. McCarthy opened up a cupboard and took out some decent clothes for both of us. He handed me a newer pair of pants and a shirt, to keep up my disguise. Then Daniel and I went off to bathe.

  Mrs. McCarthy had cooked us a full meal of hot grits with bacon and eggs and milk. When we were finished, we headed out back, and Mr. McCarthy, dressed in a suit, led us to the couple’s carriage. The two horses were already bridled.

  “We ridin’ in this?” I asked anxiously.

  “Yup,” he responded. “I talked to your brother, and he says he knows how to drive a carriage pretty well.”

  “You mean, we don’t have to run no more, an’ . . . an’ we don’t have to hide?”

  “Well, now, I didn’t say all that. Your brother here, he’s my servant, my driver. Started working for me about half a year ago. His name is Pete.” I looked at Daniel to see if he was comfortable with his new identity. He nodded at me.

  “An’ what do I do?” I asked.

  “You’ll have to hide,” he said, motioning for me to follow him into the carriage. My face fell.

  “Hide? But sah, we on free land.”

  “Yes, you are, my dear. However, it still can be a bit dangerous for folks like you and your brother.” The strain I had felt while running crept back into my bones.

  “There’s hay here in the back part with these barrels. See this small groove in the bottom of the carriage?” I looked to where he was pointing.

  “This is where you will be, right here beneath the hay and between the barrels,” he told me.

  “For how long?” I asked, saddened. I had hoped to get a glimpse of my freedom land.

  “It should take about two and a half days’ ride to reach where we’re headed. We’ll stop at a few houses at night. Occasionally, though, when the roads are clear, I’ll let you come out.”

  “Sah,” I began hesitantly, “there . . . there ain’t another way I can get to where we headed? Don’t make a lotta sense to me bein’ in freedom an’ we still gotta hide.” The man sighed, stopping what he was doing to look over at me.

  “You sound disappointed, but I assure you, you are but a few leaps from that freedom you’re looking for. No hiding, no running, and certainly no more wagon rides under piles of hay.”

  Still, that’s two and a half days stuck in hay! I thought. But I reminded myself of other things far worse than this we had experienced during our escape.

  “Where we goin’ in Ohio? Or we goin’ all the way to Canada?” I asked, though I had no knowledge of Ohio and its land.

  “You’re full of questions, aren’t you?” he said with a smile. I looked down at my feet, embarrassed. Daniel had already taken the reins.

  “The farther north we go, the safer you are,” he said softly, “but I don’t anticipate taking you all the way to Canada.” That was as far as he wanted to go to explain the specifics.

  As we were talking, Mrs. McCarthy came out and proceeded to help me into the carriage. With the touch of a mother, she handed me a small clean rag to lie on and wished me good luck before she disappeared back into the house.

  As soon as the hay covered the last inch of my body, I felt boxed in, shut out from all light, with barely any space to move at all. It was hot, and the hay scratched my skin as the carriage rolled and jerked onto the road. How I wished I knew how to drive a carriage!

  With the ride being bumpy, it took quite a bit of effort for me to stay underneath the hay. After a while, the rag that Mrs. McCarthy had given me did little to cushion my back. Every joint in my body began to ache, and waves of anger passed through me. I felt like a caged animal as I imagined the coolness of the air whisking by the carriage and the beauty of the trees and the land. Did this part of the country look like the land around the plantation down south, or was it more like Africa? What would be the problem with sneaking a little bit of fresh air into my lungs? The ride had been long, and the odor of hay and wet wood nauseated me. The thought of widening the small air pocket I had for my nose and mouth was very tempting.

  Just as I was about to part the hay, I felt the carriage slow, then come to a stop. I quickly erased the idea from my mind. I heard the voices of Mr. McCarthy and Daniel. I longed for them to remember me and free me, but just as the thought crossed my mind. I felt the pressure of a hand, as the coffin of hay split in two and Daniel reached in and pulled me up out of my grave.

  “You’re soaked, Sarah!” I didn’t hear him, for the sunlight welcomed me with a blinding ray. The air brushed across my face and cooled my body. A welcome chill ran through me. I took a few breaths and stretched my muscles, absorbing both the feeling of emancipation and the scenery. But all too quickly, the rest stop ended and I was back in my confinement.

  We drove on.

  We had been traveling for almost two days. At the first house where we stopped, Daniel, or Pete, wasn’t welcome in the home and I couldn’t even show my face. Mr. McCarthy said it would be safer if I just stayed hidden. So I remained locked in my coffin until we stopped later that evening. Daniel pulled me out of the carriage and sneaked me into the servants’ cabin, where we would stay the night. Mr. McCarthy brought barely enough food for the both of us, apologizing as he left. We began our journey again as the first signs of dawn competed with the waning night.

  On what would be the last day of our journey, I had been allowed to escape my hiding place for the last two hours because we had seen no one as we rode down a quiet road. But eventually we heard carriage wheels approaching in the distance.

  “Quick, get back down!” But I had already retreated into my hiding place.

  As the other carriage neared, I heard Mr. McCarthy whispering to Daniel, though I couldn’t catch the words. Not long afterward, Daniel pulled the reins to stop the horses.

  “Where you headed, sir?” My heart began pounding with fear as I listened to the stranger speak.

  “Dayton,” Mr. McCarthy responded.

  “Where you comin’ from?”

  “Just a bit south of here,” he said just as assuredly.

  “Who’s this?” The voice sounded testy.

  “My servant boy,” Mr. McCarthy said with no hint of nervousness.

  “You know, there’s a few slave ads out, sir,” another stranger said, joining in the conversation. “On one of them, there’s a boy, ’bout this one here’s age.” I could feel my heart jump into my mouth! W
as this the end of our long, hard journey?

  “This is my servant, sir. He’s been working for me. I don’t know what fugitive you have in your ads, but this here is my servant boy,” Mr. McCarthy repeated, taking on the persona of a man who knew how to keep his servants in their place. I heard one of the strangers grunt sarcastically. There were only two of them, as far as I could tell. I continued listening to their conversation.

  “How old is he?” the stranger asked, resuming their line of questioning.

  “Around seventeen or eighteen, I assume. He could be twenty,” Mr. McCarthy replied evenly.

  “Your master gave you freedom, boy?”

  “He doesn’t have to answer your questions if I don’t tell him to,” Mr. McCarthy said defiantly.

  “Excuse me, sir, but I’m talking to this boy here. He’ll answer me if he knows what’s best for him,” the stranger answered arrogantly. “Boy, did your master give you your freedom?”

  There was a pause that seemed to last an eternity. Our future rested on Daniel’s lips. One wrong word or gesture and the men could wreak havoc on us. I could imagine Daniel looking toward Mr. McCarthy for permission to speak. Obviously, Mr. McCarthy granted it.

  “Naw, sah, I was born free.” I had expected Daniel’s voice to waver, but it was just as strong and direct as Mr. McCarthy’s.

  “Where’s your parents, then?” the stranger spat back.

  “My papa got shot, sah, long time ago, an’ my mama died at childbirth. She was young, an’ Mr. McCarthy here . . .”

  Where was Daniel getting all of this? I was amazed at the control and maturity Daniel maintained.

  “What’s your name, boy?”

  “Pete, sah.”

  Pete what? In my head, I could hear them asking that, but they never did. Instead, everything was quiet again until they mentioned something about the back of the carriage. I held my breath as I prayed to God I had hidden myself well enough.