Good Fortune (9781416998631)

by Carter, Noni

  “You got anyone else riding with you?”

  “No, sir, I don’t. But we are in a hurry.”

  “What for?”

  “My wife, sir. She came down with some sort of fever, God help her, and we had to come all the way up here to Dayton to get that medicine for her. Know it’s a small town, but they should have what we need,” Mr. McCarthy answered.

  The silence lasted too long. I waited for the slave hunters to throw the hay from my body and snatch me back into bondage.

  Then I heard, “All right, let’s go. Be sure to tell us if you hear about any of them runaways, sir, especially those three separate slave gals in the ad. It shouldn’t be hard to catch a slave wench.” The strangers laughed at their own words.

  “I’ll let you know if I do.”

  “Good man,” they responded.

  I listened with a light heart as the sound of horse hooves disappeared behind me. Just like that, they were gone. We were off again, but this time I stayed under the hay without the agitation I had before. The stuffiness and foul smells didn’t seem so bad anymore. We were now headed toward a dream, a dream called freedom.

  Echoes of Freedom

  CHAPTER

  27

  QUICKLY ENOUGH, WE REACHED DAYTON, A CITY IN MONTGOMERY County, Ohio. Mr. McCarthy carefully directed Daniel down streets and through busy crowds. I heard so many people moving about on the streets that I felt certain someone would notice me. But it seemed that no one did.

  From what I could hear, this wasn’t anything like the country roads or the plantations that we had just left. I could hear other carriages and wagons riding by us frequently, and the loud chatter of people caught me off guard.

  We soon arrived at the home of Mr. McCarthy’s good friend, the doctor. In the privacy of the back of the doctor’s house, Daniel helped me out of the carriage and into the home. Mr. McCarthy and his doctor friend stood waiting for us. If I didn’t know any better, I would have sworn the stranger was a slave catcher, because of the way he eyed us; that is, until he opened his mouth to speak. His demeanor changed as he relaxed his gaze, and by the time Mr. McCarthy spoke, the man was smiling.

  “This, here, is Dr. Billingsworth,” Mr. McCarthy said.

  “Come, sit,” Dr. Billingsworth said to us, gesturing to a small table in the back. His accent was nothing like the doctor’s who came by Masta’s place to get drunk and talk about us slave gals. It sounded, rather, like Dr. Billingsworth had studied reading and writing and the spoken word for a long while.

  “You won’t meet too many men of this kind. Dr. Billingsworth buys slaves, then sets them free.” I stared at him, and he chuckled at my surprised expression. Helping runaways to freedom through hospitality and kindness was one thing, but to buy them and set them free was quite another.

  Picking up where Mr. McCarthy left off, Dr. Billingsworth said, “That’s right. As soon as you two step foot out of my home, you will be just as free as any free black man and woman. But neither Mr. McCarthy nor I can help you then. In fact, it’s vital that this meeting here be immediately forgotten upon your departure, if you understand me.” The two of us nodded with a seriousness which confirmed that we understood.

  “There are a few black communities not too far from here. Settle, find jobs, and take every opportunity that arises to become landowners. I suspect some of the townsfolk will provide you with housing until you can handle things on your own. Do you understand?”

  I nodded in silence, afraid that if I spoke, this dream would turn to dust and blow away with the wind.

  “But first,” Dr. Billingsworth continued, “you two must change your names. As of right now, you’re my property until we fill out your free passes.”

  Unconsciously, I had expected something like this to take place. I sat silently, but inside, I shook with anticipation. Dr. Billingsworth pulled out two pieces of paper and placed them on the table. He then proceeded to seat himself across from us. Mr. McCarthy chose to stand by the table.

  “Do you remember when you escaped?” he asked.

  “Sometime after Christmas, sir,” Daniel answered.

  Dr. Billingsworth laughed and shook his head.

  “Not anymore,” he said as he scribbled something down on the paper. “Let’s start with you,” he said, pointing to me.

  “I bought you in November of last year, 1821, from Kentucky and freed you on this day, February 17, 1822.”

  1822! I had no idea I had been running that long.

  “But—why November?” I asked.

  “Well, now, if I bought you on that day, you could not have still been on your old master’s plantation. You could not have escaped when you did. You see?” I nodded, and he winked at me.

  “Exactly. Now, next is your name. You can’t have the same name, so—”

  “Anna, sir,” I said, cutting him off midsentence. He looked up, surprised, holding my determined gaze.

  “I want my name to be Anna,” I continued confidently.

  “Well then, you, dear, shall be named Anna.” He scribbled the name on the papers and the pass.

  “Age unknown.” He said more to himself than to me.

  “Sah, I do know my age. I’ll be fifteen come springtime.”

  He brought a finger to his lips in contemplation. “I find that not many know that. I’m glad that you do.” He smiled while he rose to retrieve another sheet and then resumed writing. A few minutes later, he began to mumble under his breath, steal a few glances in my direction, and make further notes.

  “Somewhere between fourteen and seventeen years of age . . . bushy hair . . . black eyes . . . five feet . . .” He finished scribbling for a few seconds more in silence.

  “Well, there’s your free pass,” he said, finally holding up one sheet, “and your certificate of registration.” He held up the other. “As of 1807, Ohio legislation brought forth a law requiring Negroes to carry free passes and to register with the county clerk nearest to their settlement.”

  I frowned. “So, you the county clerk, then, too?” Dr. Billingsworth smiled a tired smile.

  “Some questions, Miss Anna, are better unanswered.” With that, he swiftly brought his pen down upon the page once more.

  Daniel was next. Dr. Billingsworth explained to us that he bought Daniel in May of last year from some plantation in Mississippi when he was down there on a trip.

  “And your name?” the doctor asked.

  Daniel turned to me, his eyes asking for my assistance.

  “Um, Joe, maybe?” I said. Daniel frowned, unsatisfied.

  “What about Paul . . . or Sebastian?” Daniel said, stumbling in an attempt to find a name, something he had never contemplated before. I shrugged my shoulders.

  “Yeah, Sebastian,” he said finally, turning back to the doctor, his voice gaining confidence.

  “You sure about that?” Mr. McCarthy, who had been silent the entire time, asked Daniel.

  “Well, yessah, I assume Sebastian will do me just right fine.”

  “What about our last names, sah?” Dr. Billingsworth looked up and smiled at me.

  “Well, since I ‘owned’ you last, it would be Billingsworth; that’s what it is on these free passes. But you two are now free people. You can decide your own last names.”

  “We can decide? But what if people ask us, sah? What we s’pose to say about our plantations, or our mastas or . . .” Questions rushed through my mind.

  “Slow down a bit there, miss,” he said.

  “If anybody asks that much, it’s safest to stay quiet and pull out your passes.”

  “But, sah, ain’t you puttin’ real life mastas on that paper who ain’t eva known us in our entire lives? If so, wouldn’t they find out soona or lata we ain’t really from those plantations, that you didn’t really buy us?”

  He was silent for a few seconds. “Anna, you are on free land. If it does so happen people question you, free passes would do the job of keeping you here, in freedom.”

  “Yea, but sah—�
��

  “Sarah.” Daniel tried to end my questions, but Dr. Billingsworth was intent on settling my fears.

  “Anna, you needn’t worry about the names of the people I put on your passes. They are all friends of mine involved with my work. They help people like you and Sebastian here. Now, I can’t promise that nothing will happen; there’s always an escaped slave who is found and taken back. But you two have come this far and reached this place called Freedom. So, embrace it.” Dr. Billingsworth looked sincerely into my eyes.

  “In the meantime though, here, take these.” Dr. Billingsworth handed us the passes and certificates in neat envelopes. “Do not lose these, and carry them with you every time you come to Dayton or any other public place like this, you hear?” We nodded.

  “Well, then, on to our next matter of business. The state of Ohio requires that any free Negro post a bond of five hundred dollars upon arrival into Ohio.” My eyes grew wide with concern. Five hundred dollars! Did the doctor know we had no such amount? Would he send us away, to another state? Perhaps our journey had not ended! Daniel simply sat, awaiting more of an explanation. “The money is of no concern, however. It’s been posted on your behalf. The bond takes care of families; therefore, you two must be brother and sister.”

  Flooded with relief, I said, “That’s not too hard to remember.”

  Dr. Billingsworth smiled and rose from his seat. “With that, all legal matters are settled. Now I want you two to wash off, and then I will give you your clothes. You, Miss Anna, won’t need a man’s disguise any longer.” After we washed off, Dr. Billingsworth handed me a faded blue dress and Daniel a simple shirt and full-length pants, something Daniel had not had since he was a boy.

  As we approached the door, Dr. Billingsworth placed a few coins in Daniel’s hands.

  “It’s nothing much, but you may need some on your way out of the city.”

  “Yessah. Thank you, sah.” Daniel said. With that, the doctor and Mr. McCarthy nodded their good-byes to us and the back door shut. As we made our way into the street, I took a whiff of the air and closed my eyes. When I opened them again, sunlight illuminated my vision as I stared out at the world stretching before me. I was a free black woman on the streets of Dayton, Ohio.

  CHAPTER

  28

  “CAN YOU FEEL IT TINGLIN’?” I ASKED MY BROTHER AFTER WE had walked at least a mile from Dr. Billingsworth’s place, each listening to our own thoughts in silence. I had peeked over at my brother and seen hints of a smile playing with the sides of his mouth. Daniel looked over at me and caught my contagious grin.

  “Ya, you can feel it, that freedom feeling,” I said. He laughed—a sound I hadn’t heard from him in so long!

  “It’s funny, I feel so light, I could jus’ float up an’ away!”

  “Well, don’t float too far, brother. You’ll get spotted quick as lightnin’ with these woman holdin’ their chins so high,” I said, throwing my sack down. Daniel stopped and watched as I straightened out my make-believe full skirt, lengthened my back as tall as I could, tossed my chin high in the air, and sauntered down the empty street as if no one greater ever lived. Daniel chuckled loudly and lifted my sack from the ground.

  “Don’t do that. You ain’t like that,” he scolded, though he was still smiling. I looked down at my shoes and rubbed my feet against the dirt.

  Free land. We were . . . we were free—free folks!

  I watched as a tear soaked into the soil next to my left foot, and another fell on top of that. He walked over to me and placed his hand on my shoulder. We stood quietly, more serious now.

  “Daniel . . . Daniel, we in freedom. All them years, we slaves on a plantation, an’ suddenly, we jus’ . . . we jus’ free!” I covered my mouth with my hand, laughing and crying with elation.

  “Daniel, we . . .,” I started, seeing him stand there simply as if he didn’t get it yet. But suddenly, he had embraced me in his arms like he used to when we were much smaller, spun around once, and fell into my arms. I laughed as he backed away, every line creasing his face bathed in a joy I thought had left him. I pulled my arm around his waist, and we fell into step, our hearts lighter than they had ever been.

  But soon enough, a solemn, subtle feeling raced past my joy. I stared at the sky, wondering, silently, why John and Mary and Tucker couldn’t have been there to share that moment along with us. I looked over at Daniel. The same expression had fallen over his face.

  We neared the busy section of town, and everywhere I looked, I saw signs with words scribbled across them. I admired the place with interest. Unlike Daniel, I hadn’t been to a town since I had been brought to America as a small child.

  I pointed to a sign and whispered to Daniel, “Look, it say shop and fish and townhouse.” I digested the letters like a hungry child, reading every written word I could. I hadn’t read anything in so long!

  Daniel pointed in the distance. “See those taller buildings?” I nodded. “They’s factories, I b’lieve.”

  I contemplated that. “Sebastian, how hard you think it’s gonna be to find us jobs?” I asked, making sure to use his new name.

  “Can’t reckon, sista. We ain’t got a place to stay yet.”

  “You think they got large schools here?”

  “Don’t know that, either. But I think first we should worry ’bout findin’ an makin’ a livin’.”

  “Been thinkin’ about a school, or learning, ever since I left that plantation. I sure do hope they got one.”

  Daniel and I walked the entire afternoon pretty much unseen—or, rather, unnoticed. We passed wagons driven by black men. We saw a small fishing dock with boats tied to it. White ladies in large dresses and bonnets made their way past us. Daniel and I laughed in secret at how many of them fit the exact description I had illustrated earlier. Most of the time, however, Daniel was lost in thought, and he spoke only when he needed to point out a landmark Dr. Billingsworth had told us to look for. As the afternoon slipped away, the bustle of people around us died down, and Daniel and his hope seemed to grow wearier as daylight faded. We both tried to dismiss the rain lightly falling upon our shoulders. The prospect of freedom wasn’t dimming, but the question of how to manage that freedom seemed to be weighing on my brother’s mind.

  “We shoulda come to our part of town by now, Sarah,” he said with some irritation.

  “Anna,” I responded.

  He glanced over at me, the same irritation settling into his eyes, and retorted sarcastically, “Anna.”

  “How we s’posed to know when we get there?” I asked Daniel. He shrugged.

  “All Dr. Billingsworth said was, we’ll know.”

  “Well, then, we haven’t gotten there yet, Sebastian.” Daniel grunted in response. We walked on in silence for a couple of minutes until Daniel spoke again.

  “Sarah—”

  “Anna!” I almost yelled.

  “It don’t matter, Sarah! Ain’t nobody round here!”

  “We still in town, Sebastian. You don’t wanna mess up one day in front of the wrong people.”

  He sighed. “Anna, we’re gonna hafta stop soon. It ain’t safe to walk in the dark, I don’t s’pose.”

  “Stop where?”

  We had walked beyond the boundary of the town, and found smaller buildings and a bit more trees. The rain was now steadier and harder, and darkness had sprung upon us.

  “You think we can lie down for the night somewhere, maybe under a tree or somethin’? Then we can keep goin’ in the mornin’,” I suggested to him.

  “I guess so,” uncertainty ringing in his voice.

  “We bin doin that all this time. One more day ain’t gonna matta much.”

  So we walked quickly on until we came to a large tree standing alone in a clearing. Using our old clothes we had insisted on keeping, we made two sleeping spots and dozed off. We both clutched our sacks and drinking gourds as if someone would come at any moment to snatch them.

  I awoke to the feeling of my wet clothes clinging to my
skin. It was still raining, and I shivered from the cold, as memories of our escape flashed before me. What was it that had awakened me?

  I looked in Daniel’s direction and, as my eyes adjusted to the darkness, was shocked to see him swinging a sack through the air. Hearing the loud scream of pain that followed, I looked closer and saw a small figure twitching on the ground. Daniel was standing over him in attack mode.

  “Daniel?” I whispered, forgetting his other name and not daring to move from where I was lying. “What happened?”

  “I dunno, Sarah, it happened so quick!” He raised his voice over the moans and groans coming from the person on the ground.

  “Heard a shufflin’ sound an’ swung at the dark. I hit ’im, but I think he just a boy.”

  Daniel bent down toward the figure, but the boy began screaming again, this time yelling, “Get away from me! Get away! Mama! Mama Bessie!”

  At that instant, a flash of lightning lit up the sky. Sure enough, the boy on the ground was very young and clearly black. Daniel had backed away, but I kneeled by the little boy and, despite his screams, placed a cool hand on his sweaty forehead. He tried to shrink away.

  “Sarah, what are you—”

  “Shh,” I whispered to the little boy while stroking his hair, interrupting Daniel.

  “It’s all right, we ain’t here to hurt you.” His screams subsided a little. “My brother just thought you was here to hurt us.” The boy sniffed and nodded, wiping his teary eyes.

  “Why you out here in the middle of the night, anyhow? Where’s your folks?” I asked him.

  “Please don’t tell ha, please don’t tell ha I was out here! Don’t tell ha . . .” But he fell silent at the sound of approaching footsteps followed by a woman’s voice. Daniel and I both jumped in alarm, and he reached down abruptly to grab our belongings.

  “Sebastian, it’s all right, we got our papers. We free folks.”

  A plump black woman approached the tree. In her left hand she held a lantern that she raised high to see what she had walked up to. The worried expression engraved on her face shifted from the little boy to Daniel and me. Without taking her eyes from the two of us, she spoke to the child.